There’s a Buddhist parable that has been resonating with me over these past few weeks. It goes something like this.
A man needs to cross a river. He can’t walk or wade across because it’s too deep. He could swim, but the currents are swift. He decides to build a raft and paddle across. It takes a lot of time and effort to gather up reeds, leaves, branches, and logs and weave them together into a structure that will float. But with persistence and time he gets his raft built.
The day finally comes and he hops onboard and toils across the river to the other side. It wasn’t an easy trek, but he makes it! Now that he has crossed the river, he is not sure of what to do with his one-of-a-kind creation. His back hurts and his hands have blisters and bruises. He has a lot of time and effort invested building this thing—sweat equity is an embodied currency. Should he carry the raft with him in case he needs to cross another body of water? Should he leave it for someone else who may need it to travel over this same river? Should he burn the wood and make a fire to stay warm for the night? What to do?
The thing is, if he’s going to be walking on land, he no longer needs a raft. It’s cumbersome shape will make it hard to maneuver through the woods and will surely slow him down. Like a lot of things in life, it’s hard to let go of something you have such an investment in. An asset that has been extremely valuable at one point in your life is hard to put down and walk away from, even if no longer serves you. That’s what our friend is struggling with. The raft represents his attachments.
Eventually, he decides to leave the raft and carries on with his journey, having the wisdom to understand that a vessel meant to travel on the water will be a burden if he continues to carry it on land. The tool simply doesn’t fit the job. When and if he encounters another river, he knows he possesses the skills necessary to build another raft…probably more efficiently.
This story is a nice metaphor for our lives, especially at a time of year when people are making New Year’s resolutions. Truth be known, I’m not a big fan of resolutions. They often are based in some sort of external expectation of behavior or are often driven by guilt or a negative self story. Maybe, instead of making a resolution, we simply decide what ways of thinking or being no longer serve us. And like the raft, we can understand that for a time these things had an important role in our story, but they are no longer appropriate for the chapters ahead. Wisdom requires discernment. Willful detachment and courage are required to change and adapt. Life is a series of adaptations. We don’t have to place a negative value on what came before, but simply understand that a new way of being is only possible if we allow some space for it.